The Layton Chronicles: Chronicle 1
by The-Serious-One
Summary: AU; A series about Hershel Layton, how he meets Luke, and how his life begins to crumble-or possibly build- around him.
1. Chapter 1

The Layton Chronicles

Chronicle 1: Layton gets an Apprentice!

Chapter 1: Introductions Should Be Made

Hershel Layton is not your everyday Englishman. He is a newly-appointed professor of archeology at Greenhessler University. As he is only twenty-two, he is the youngest professor the University now holds on staff. Not only is he the youngest, but he is also one of the tallest. He stands at six-foot-three, and is extremely thin for his height. He is also toned and strong, despite his lanky body. Fitted to his form is his classic orange shirt and brown dress pants. Matched to his pants is his notary brown jacket with a tall neck that rounds about his face. His out-of-place deep green sneakers seem to go quite well with the outfit combination, despite the color difference. Despite these, the only article of clothing (if you could call it that) that makes him stand out is his top hat.

Professor Layton wears a one-of-a-kind brown top hat that has a red ribbon wrapped around it. He was gifted this very special top hat by none other than his past girlfriend, Claire. Now, most people would think this is normal, but not for Layton—he never takes his hat off, unless he's asleep. Why? Simple. Claire died two years ago, in a freak explosion in the University's lab. She and three other laboratory assistants were killed instantly…painlessly. He still mourns her death two years later, as she is the only love he's ever known. He clings to his hat as a memoir of her, as much as it hurts him.

Layton lives comfortably by himself in a two-level house. On the first floor are the dining, living, and breakfast rooms, as well as laundry and the kitchen. On the second floor are Layton's bedroom, two spare guest bedrooms, and his home office. The reason he has all this space for one person is he and Claire planned on marriage—and children of their own. She wanted a lot of space for them, so her family could live largely and comfortably. Now, Layton lives alone, and the emptiness of the house gets to him now and then, the darkness of the hollow halls crawling up and down his tan skin.

In present time, Layton is working in his home office. His hat dips to one side of his sweat-covered face as he works tirelessly under a hot lamp. He is piecing together an ancient artifact from Machu Picchu; he smiles to himself once the detailed vase is finally glued together. He slides it under the lamp, letting the heat radiate onto the porcelain to allow it time to dry. He breathes a sigh of relief, and backs up his chair to stand up. He silently slides out from the chair, careful to watch where his knees are; last time he didn't watch, he ended up re-breaking an Egyptian plate. He walks soundlessly out of his office, padding out of the room and down the wooden stairs in socks. Yawning, Layton stumbles into his kitchen to make himself a pot of tea.

Tea is what has kept Layton going since Claire's death. It was her favorite drink, and as he drinks more each day, Layton has become accustomed to the slightly bitter flavor. Now he regards the drink highly, and requires at least five cups of tea each day to keep him going. His favorite is anything sweet—chamomile, orange, or mint tea—it slides down his throat easier, it seems. Tonight, however, he pours himself a cup of Earl Grey. Then, he pads out of the kitchen and into the living room, lying down across the couch. Picking up a brand new puzzle book he recently acquired, he sets his mind to the challenges at hand.

That's the third and final component to Layton's life: Work, Tea, and Puzzles. He and Claire would spend countless nights coming up with silly riddles and pictures to bend the other's mind, to see who would fail first. Of course, he solved her puzzles, but he could never quite bring himself to make a challenging puzzle that he knew she couldn't solve. He had always gone easy on her, and sometimes, he would purposefully not solve a puzzle just to see that smile light up her beautiful face.

Layton shook his head, quickly bringing himself out of his inner conscious. Yes, he missed Claire, but that was two years ago. _I should have moved on by now_, he thought to himself, idly sipping at the now lukewarm tea, _perhaps I should visit her grave again_. Yawning for the umpteenth time that night, Layton finished off his tea and headed for bed. He turned off all the lights downstairs, and leapt up the stairs two at a time to reach his room quickly. Sighing, he grabbed his favorite orange pajamas and padded into the bathroom. Stripping silently, Layton stepped into the hot shower. The boiling temperatures wore out the knots in his neck, turning his skin bright red from the sudden heat. Shaking out the water droplets in his short, milk chocolate hair, he dried quickly and slipped into his pajamas. He double checked all the locks before sliding into his large king-sized bed. For the first night in a long time, Layton slept peacefully and soundly throughout the entire night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: A Surprise on the Doorstep

Layton woke with a start, the bright lights of the early morning shining down onto his face. He groaned, and sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. Thankfully, it was a Saturday, so he didn't have to go into the University today. He swung his legs out of bed, stood up and stretched. Hearing his vertebrae crackle and pop at the age of twenty two, he rolled his eyes and dressed in his normal attire. However, in the middle of buttoning his pants, he stopped and his eyes grew large. _What was that just now?_ He thought to himself. Swearing under his breath, he quickly threw on his shirt and jacket and quietly crept downstairs to investigate the whimpering noises he thought he heard. Layton was at the bottom step when he heard the pitiful whimper again. _Is it a dog? A cat? I thought I locked all of the doors last night,_ he thought to himself, his mind racing a million miles a minute.

Layton braced himself for the worst, and he quietly crept around the corner. He peeked out into the foyer, and saw nothing. Realizing he was being silly, he stood up straight and let out a sigh of relief. That was until the whimper came once more. He slowly looked down, and at his feet in front of the door was a small wicker basket with a note attached to it. Layton quirked an eyebrow, and hastily ripped the note off the basket to read:

_Keep him safe. _

His eyes widened, listening to the small whimpering noises that seemed to be coming from inside the basket. Layton knelt on the ground, and gingerly took the top off the container. His eyes widened more, and his lip began to tremble. There, inside the basket, was nestled a sleeping baby. Layton slowly picked up the child, rocking him to stop the small whimpers from the tiny lips. He kissed the baby's forehead, and carried the child into the living room. He placed the baby on the couch, and the baby slowly opened his eyes, and began to laugh and kick at the air. Layton sat on the floor next to the child, and began to think about a name for the baby. _Perhaps Marcus? No, too common. Paul? No….Luke. Yes, that's it! Luke._ He smiled at the name for the baby. It was perfect.

"Hello Luke," Layton whispered, running a finger through the baby's soft golden hair. He was too busy caught up with the current situation to realize he knew nothing about raising a child. Sure, he and Claire were planning to have children, but he never read anything about caring for a little tyke. Layton continued to play with the baby when a knock came from the front door. Being thrown from his thoughts, he gingerly picked up the baby and went to answer the door. Layton kicked the basket out of the way, and opened the door to greet his next door neighbor.

"Anton," Layton smiled, shaking the elderly gentleman's hand with his free hand, "what can I do for you today, my good man?"

Anton chuckled, his green eyes full of childlike wonder. "I heard some ruckus during the night, and I guess it was just you with—is that a _baby._"

Layton blinked at Anton's shocked expression. "Oh yeah, err," Layton stuttered, "Last night, this little guy was dropped off at my door without my knowledge. There was no name or anything on the note, just to keep him safe," Layton looked down lovingly at Luke, "and that's what I plan to do. Only, I know nothing of raising children."

Anton nodded, seeming to understand the situation. "Well, you'll definitely need a lot of supplies to be raising such a young child," He said gently, tapping his cane on the sidewalk, "I'll send Katia over later, and she can help you gather things for the new child."

Layton smiled, "I appreciate it, Anton. Thank you."

Anton tipped his hat, "Anything for a fellow gentleman."

Layton laughed, closing the door as the elderly man walked away. Layton looked down at Luke and kissed him again on the forehead. He couldn't wait to get a jump start on the little one's new life.

* * *

At half past ten, another knock came from Layton's door.

"It's open," he called.

Katia stumbled through the door, packages upon packages in her arms and outside Layton's door. She brought all the towers of packages inside, before rushing over to the baby. She gasped in delight, child-like innocence streaming through her eyes.

"He's beautiful, Layton," she murmured, holding Luke in her arms. She rocked him to sleep, setting him back down on his spot on the couch. "Now," Katia declared, motioning to the packages, "I brought some stuff for us to get started on while the little one sleeps."

Looking at the towers of bought baby items, Layton groaned and began to carry the bags up to the guest room closest to his own room. Katia laughed, hefting more packages up the wooden stairs. In such the short span of fifteen minutes, the duo managed to fit all the boxes and supplies into the empty bedroom, all the while checking on Luke to make sure he was asleep.

"So," Layton commented, eyeing all the boxes, "what do we start with?"

Katia laughed, pointing at the largest boxes in the corner. "The crib and the bookcase."

Layton dragged the bookcase over to the opposite side of the room, where fewer boxes were scattered about, and began to build it. Katia started on the project of the crib. Ten minutes into silent building, a distinct cry began to drift up to the second floor. Layton frowned, and began to stand, until Katia pushed him back down.

"I'll take care of him, you keep working," She said smiling, walking out the room.

Taking a deep breath, Layton resumed the tedious building of the floor-to-ceiling dark mahogany bookcase. He must admit, as gorgeous of a color as it was, it was extremely heavy and hard to build. Finally, after much struggle, he screwed the heavy bookcase into the wall. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, setting his precious top hat on one of the shelves. Satisfied with his work, he walked downstairs to find Katia. Layton quietly padded down the stairs, to see Katia asleep on the couch, with little Luke curled up and asleep in her arms. He smiled and went into the kitchen to prepare a cup of tea for Katia and himself. Setting the tea water on the hot stove top, he went back into the living room to see Katia sitting up with Luke protectively cradled in her arms.

"He's so precious, Layton," she whispered, running a finger through the baby's fine golden locks.

Layton smiled and was about to take Luke into his own arms when the tea kettle began to whistle. Luke shifted, his big eyes blinking open to look up at Layton. Luke laughed and outstretched his tiny arms to the Professor. Layton laughed, holding the relatively small baby while Katia poured two cups of tea. Layton sat on one end of the couch while Katia took to the other, and they sipped at their hot tea.

"So," Katia began, setting her cup on the coffee table, "What're you going to do with him?"

Layton tilted his head. "What so you mean 'what am I going to do with him'. I'm going to keep him, of course!"

Katia frowned, "It's just that… nothing. Never mind, forget I ever said anything."

Layton leaned forward and patted her knee. "It's alright, tell me."

"Well," She gulped, "It's just that you've just settled into your job, and you're so young, and you're going to take on a kid single-handedly? It seems a little much, from my perspective, at least."

Layton sighed, sinking into the couch cushions. "You're right," he admitted, "it seems a little much. But whoever left Luke on my doorstep specifically chose _me_ to watch their child grow up." He stopped, and looked down at the child, who was playing with the buttons on Layton's jacket, "And I intend to be the best guardian there is for this child," he finished.

Katia blinked, and then nodded. "Well, that room isn't going to get built itself, now is it?" She joked.

Layton nodded, and they walked back up the stairs together. This time, however, they brought Luke upstairs with them.

"What do you think," Layton whispered to the laughing baby, "this is all yours….all for you."

Katia laughed loudly, finishing up the crib. She motioned to Layton for the baby, while he attached to puzzle mobile overtop of Luke's crib.

"It's so perfect," Katia commented, twirling the orange puzzle pieces in circles.

"You're telling me," Layton grinned, taking Luke back from Katia. He gently placed the baby in the crib, watching with loving eyes as the child began to squeal and laugh while playing with the mobile and Katia's hands.

"Just one more question, if you don't mind," Katia said quietly.

"Anything, my dear," Layton said, distracted by Luke.

"You obviously have to go to work on Monday," she said uneasily, "I have work as well—who's going to watch the tyke?"

Layton frowned. "I'll figure something out," he replied.

The cogs in his mind began to spin as the duo finished clearing the room of empty boxes. All the baby supplies were piled into the bookcase, Layton's top hat long gone and back on its respectful owner's head. When they finally finished with the room, Luke had drifted off to sleep clutching a teddy bear Katia had hand-picked for him. Exchanging knowing glances, they padded out of the room, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards and steps. They slumped back down on the couch when a distinct wail could be heard from upstairs.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Layton," Katia laughed, while Layton groaned and covered his face with his hands.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Fast Forwarding

Let's fast forward five years into the future….

"Luke," Layton called up the stairs, his hands on the banister, "could you bring me my book off of my nightstand? It's dark brown with gold lettering."

"Alright Professor," A squeaky voice replied.

Layton chuckled to himself, listening to the little boy tromp around upstairs. He returned to his tea, sipping at the soothingly hot drink. Reading through the funnies, a five-year-old Luke came running into the room, the book tightly clutched in his tiny arms. He launched himself at the Professor, landing with an 'oomph' on the young man's lap. Layton gasped, moving his hot tea away from the boy so it wouldn't spill on him.

"Luke," Layton scolded, setting his drink down, "you'll get burned if you keep jumping on me while I'm holding my teacup."

"Sorry Professor," Luke mumbled, casting his baby blues downward.

"Now Luke," Layton said, pushing Luke's chin up, "No need to look so down. All is forgiven."

Luke sighed and climbed off the Professor's lap. He trotted away and back up the stairs to his room. It hadn't changed much in the five years he's lived with the Professor; only, instead of a crib, he has a twin bed. Also, this past summer, Luke convinced the Professor to paint his room light blue. Luke flopped onto his bed, burying his head into his pillow. He hated making the Professor so upset—he didn't _mean _to almost burn himself! Tears coming to his eyes, he threw the pillow over his head and started to sob into his sheets.

Hearing Luke crying upstairs, Layton sighed, and ran a hand over his face. _Really, Hershel, he is only five,_ he reminded himself, _go apologize again._ Listening to his subconscious for once, the soon-to-be-twenty-seven-year-old stood up from the couch and quietly made his way up the stairs. He paused outside of Luke's room, his heart wrenching each time the boy cried louder. Sighing, Layton knocked twice on the door. Luke's cries immediately stopped.

"W-what?" Luke said, hiccupping.

"Can I come in?" Layton said, leaning against the door.

"O-of course, Professor," Luke mumbled.

Layton quietly opened the door, padding into the blue room. He closed the door behind himself, and sat next to Luke on his bed. The silence seemed to stretch on forever.

"I'm not mad, you know," Layton began quietly; "I just want to keep you safe."

"I messed up," Luke said, tears still streaming down his pale face, "I almost got you hurt a-and…" He sobbed into his pillow again.

"Shh," Layton whispered, rubbing soothing circles in Luke's back, "I'd be fine, I've splashed myself more than once with hot tea," He chuckled, "It's you that would have been burned. I only have your best interests at heart, my boy."

Luke gradually stopped crying, his face blotchy and his eyes red from all the tears.

"Let's go get you cleaned up, alright?" Layton suggested. Luke nodded, running into the bathroom to clean his face off.

Layton smiled, standing up and brushing off his shirt. Sure, dealing with little kids was hard from the start, but it was worth it for Luke. He had watched his little boy grow up over the past five years, and he was already seeing a little image of himself. Luke was extremely intelligent—his vocabulary stretched farther than any five-year-old Layton had ever seen, and his puzzle-solving skills were improving more and more every day. Luke made him feel so proud…

"Ack!" Luke yelped, splashing himself with hot tap water. He quickly rubbed his face with a hand towel, trying to get the boiling water off of his skin. Layton peeked his head in to check on Luke and, containing a laugh, knelt down and took the towel from him.

"Now," Layton said, patting the little boy's face, "What if that had been boiling tea?"

Luke's eyes widened. "I u-understand, Professor," He stammered, fear filling his blue eyes. As soon as Layton was done cleaning his face with cold water, Luke ran from the room and jumped onto his bed once more. Layton followed him at a slower pace, leaning against the door frame.

"_Now_ what are you doing?" Layton chuckled, folding his arms.

"Nothing!" Luke said quickly, burrowing under his sheets.

"Are you going to sleep?" Layton asked, laughing.

"No, I'm not tier..." Luke couldn't finish his sentence before he was fast asleep.

_He must be worn out from crying so much_, Layton thought, sighing. He knelt down by the bed, and kissed Luke on the forehead.

"Sleep well, my boy," Layton whispered. He padded out of the room, reminding himself to close the door. Hearing the door click, Layton tip-toed down the creaky stairs and walked into the kitchen to make himself another pot of tea. Sighing, he sipped at his fresh Earl Grey and looked out the window.

"You'd love him," Layton said out loud, "He's everything you'd ever want in a child. He's so sweet and kind, and intelligent, just like you. I know you would have doted on him, and loved him as if he was your own." Layton sighed, "I just wish you were here to see him grow up."

* * *

Layton groggily sat up. It must be three o'clock in the morning, judging by the darkness in the windows. He could hear Luke doing _something_ down the hall, and going with his parental senses, decided to check on him. He climbed out of bed, and walked over to Luke's room. Layton cringed, hearing the now clear sounds of vomiting. He quickly opened the door, and practically ran into Luke's little bathroom. Luke was bent over the toilet, coughing and sputtering.

"Oh Luke," Layton said sadly. He kneeled beside Luke and kept his hair out of face while Luke continued to throw up. He rubbed Luke's back, helping him stand once Luke had settled for a couple minutes. Layton hoisted him up onto the sink counter, and flushed everything away. He turned back to the little boy, seeing the green tingeing his pale cheeks.

"Come now, let's brush your teeth," Layton said gently.

Nodding, Luke brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth multiple times before he got the acidic taste out of his mouth. He placed his toothbrush back, and put his arms out for the Professor to pick him up. Layton smiled, gently hoisting Luke up and setting him on his waist.

"C-can I sleep with you tonight, Professor?" Luke asked wearily, tears in his eyes.

"Of course," Layton replied, smiling. He carried Luke back to his room, remembering to swipe the little one's teddy bear off of his bed. Layton had barely walked into his own room and Luke was already fast asleep. Layton carefully placed the small child in the bed, tucking the sheets up over his shoulders. He slid the teddy bear in between Luke's little arms before lying down beside him. Carefully, Layton put his arms around little Luke, and soon he was pulled into unconsciousness.

* * *

Jump ahead a few months….

"But I don't wanna!" Luke cried from the backseat. His hands were gripped tightly to his Thomas the Tank Engine backpack, and he refused to get out of his car seat.

"Luke, listen to me," Layton said gently, "I know first grade is hard—I won't be there, and you won't know anyone, but, it gets better. I'll be back to pick you up this afternoon, and I'm sure you'll have much to tell me."

"But Professor," Luke tried again.

"Ah, now Luke, a gentleman doesn't try to weasel out of a situation," Layton said teasingly.

Luke sighed. "Yes Professor," He mumbled. With that, the little tyke unbuckled himself, and with the Professor, walked into his first grade classroom. His eyes grew large when he recognized his teacher.

"Miss Katia?" Luke gasped, a smile breaking out over his face.

"Hello Luke," Katia said, smiling warmly down at the little boy, "You sure have grown since the last time I saw you."

"I'm all grown up now," Luke said proudly, standing as straight as possible.

Layton coughed behind him, covering up a snicker. Luke tried to glare at his father, but ended up rolling his eyes and looking back at Katia.

"I trust you're in good hands," Layton said, smirking at his son, "And I need to head off to work."

"Alright Daddy," Luke sighed, hugging Layton's legs, "I'll see you later."

Layton ruffled his hair. "I'll be back before you know it.

Luke let go, smiled, and ran off to find his cubby and put his backpack away.

"Take good care of him," Layton said teasingly. With that, he walked back to the Laytonmobile and headed to Greenhessler University.

On the road, Layton sighed and looked out the window of his car at the rushing scenery. He pulled his eyes back to road, mouth drooping slightly.

"I really miss you, you know," He said out loud, obviously talking to Claire, "He's onto his first day of school, and I know you would have been so excited. You would have packed his lunch for him, and write little notes like you used to do for me." Layton's heart dropped. "I wish you could still be here. I know you would have loved him as much as I do, and probably more."

With that thought, Layton pulled into his parking spot at the University, ready to start another day of archaeology classes.

* * *

Layton stood in the first grade classroom, watching as Luke rapidly cleaned up his desk while chatting with some of the other kids.

"He's such a good kid," Katia said, taking a sip of her coffee, "Such a smart one. You're so lucky."

Layton quirked an eyebrow, smiling. "Now why would you say that?" He said teasingly.

Katia laughed. "It's just that most kids at his age can't do what he does," She said, admiringly looking at the blonde child, "He's so intelligent. Just like his father."

Layton laughed. "I wonder who he gets it from," Layton said, smiling sadly.

Katia looked at Layton. "You never found his birth parents?" She said quietly.

Layton shook his head. "I looked and looked;" He said sadly, "I even got Inspector Chelemy over at the Scotland Yard to help me investigate. They couldn't find anything."

Katia patted his shoulder. "You should enjoy the time you have with Luke," She said smiling, "He's a good kid."

Layton nodded. "I know," He said. Feeling a tug on his pants, he looked down to see said child with a big grin on his face.

"I'm guessing you'll be telling me about your first day of school on the way home," Layton said, chuckling.

Saying their goodbyes to Katia, the duo walked out of the building and into the Laytonmobile. Layton made sure Luke was secured safely into the car seat before pulling out of the parking lot. They had barely gotten onto the highway when Luke began talking a million miles a minute.

"Miss Katia is so nice! She tells us stories and we have nap time and I met this girl named Flora! She's so pretty and she loves puzzles too! Her favorite color is pink and she wears a red ribbon in her hair and her cubby is next to mine!" Luke said excitedly.

Layton smirked. "Falling in love already?" He said, trying to keep a straight face.

Luke made a face. "Ick! No!"

Layton laughed, pulling into his driveway. "Well I'm sure she's a very nice girl," He commented, unbuckling Luke. They walked into the house, and Luke immediately threw his backpack onto the couch. He sat down and pulled out a booklet and crayons. He flipped through the book, before stopping at a drawing.

"See, Flora drew this for me!" He exclaimed, holding the book up for the Professor to see.

Taking the book from Luke's hands, Layton couldn't help but 'awe' at the drawing. It was two stick figures, one with a dress and one with a blue cap. In scratchy handwriting "Best Friends" was written at the top.

"Looks like you two are pretty serious," Layton commented, smiling.

"Professor," Luke sighed, "that's not funny."

"Quite right," Layton said, trying not to laugh, "It was not gentlemanly. Forgive my relapse of manners."

"_Alls forgiven_," Luke said mockingly.

"Don't take a tone with me, young man," Layton said, standing at his full height, eyeing his son.

Gulping, Luke quickly collected his things and rushed up the stairs to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Luke's First Real Christmas

"Professah!" Luke's shrill voice rang throughout the house. Layton groaned, rolling over in his bed. He realized that it was December 10, and he had promised Luke to start decorating the house for the holidays.

"Professah," Luke said, poking his head into Layton's room, "Won't you get ready and come downstairs? I'm ready to start decoratin'!"

Layton sighed. "Yes Luke, I'll be down soon."

With that, the little one ran out of the room, and with an audible thump, fell down the stairs.

"I'm all right!" Luke's muffled voice called.

Layton chuckled, swinging his legs out of the bed. He yawned and stretched, padding over to the closet. Removing his fleece pajamas, he quickly slid into his classics, and left his room to find the excited child.

"Luke? Luke my boy, come here," Layton called, sleepily wiping his eyes with his wrist.

"Yes, Professah?" Luke said, peeking out from the kitchen.

"Would you bring me my hat? I believe it's on the table," Layton said, making his way to the tea kettle.

"O-of course, Professah!" Luke said excitedly.

Usually, Layton didn't like anyone touching his blessed hat from Claire, but this morning, he just wanted a cup of tea, and he was sure Luke wouldn't harm it in any way. Just as he assured himself, Luke carefully trod into the kitchen, and held up the hat. Layton smiled down at Luke, gratefully taking the hat and placing it on his own head.

"Do you remember where the Christmas decorations are, Luke?" Layton said, pouring himself a cup of tea.

Luke's eyes widened, nodding as he smiled. "They're in deh attic!" He declared, putting his fists on his hips.

Careful not to spit his tea everywhere, Layton held down his laughter and placed the cup back on the saucer. "I'll get them down for you once I'm done my tea, so until then, would you like to pick out some cookie recipes?"

Giggling, Luke ran off in the direction of the bookcase, most likely to drag out Claire's old cookbooks. Sighing to himself, Layton sunk himself into the couch, sipping at his hot tea. It was a chilly December morning, and thinking further, he wondered if there was any chopped firewood in the garage.

"Professah, aye've got some recipes," Luke called from the hallway.

"I'll get the decorations, would you start cleaning up the living room?" Layton asked.

"Sure thing, Professah!" Luke replied, stumbling into the room, his little arms loaded with books.

Laughing, Layton left his son to clean, and walked upstairs to the spare hall closet. Throwing open the door, he coughed from the cloud of dust that blew out. Sure, it had only been a year since he's put them away, but not even _that_ much dust should come out. Layton bent over, gathering as many cardboard boxes he could carry, and proceeded to make his way back to the living room. He set the boxes by the couch and, stifling a laugh, glanced at little Luke, fast asleep with his head on top of the cooking books.

"Luke," Layton said gently, shaking the boy's shoulders, "go upstairs if you're going to sleep. I'll start the decorations, and you can help when you've rested up."

"Yes Professah," Luke mumbled, standing shakily, and stumbled over to the steps to go up to his bedroom.

Layton sighed, a smile stretching across his face. He picked up the cookbooks and neatly stacked them on the coffee table. Satisfied with the pile, Layton quickly glanced around the room. He walked over to the piano, and cleared off the various picture frames and vases from the top. He made his way around the room, taking down the ordinary decorations and carefully placing them in an empty box he had brought downstairs. Then, he started with the small decorations, and started to make the room look like a Christmas Luke will never forget.

* * *

Three hours later, most of the house was furnished with red, white, and green. Layton had yet to put up the tree, as Luke had requested a 'real' tree this year (Layton didn't understand his complaints—a plastic tree _was _a real tree).

Luke yawned, rolling over in his sleep. He opened his heavy eyes, staring blankly at the light blue walls. His mind began to catch up with him, and he gasped, sitting straight up in bed. _I'm supposed to help the Professah!_ He thought frantically. Quickly throwing the sheets aside, he rushed out of his bedroom, barely getting down the steps without falling over. Panting, Luke ran into the living room to see Layton enjoying a cup of tea and reading.

"Hello Luke," Layton said calmly, eyeing his son over his book, "are you running through the house?"

"Sorry Professah," Luke mumbled, looking at the ground, "I just' didn't want you to do all the decoratin' by yourself."

"It's alright, my boy," Layton smiled warmly; "You can help me bake this afternoon."

Luke's eyes twinkled in wonder. "Could we start now, Professah?" Luke said excitedly, launching himself onto Layton's lap.

Laughing, Layton picked Luke up and placed him on the other end of the couch. "Go pick a recipe out, and get out the ingredients."

"Yes Professah!" Luke shouted, racing for the kitchen.

* * *

"I don't think that's supposed to happen, Professah," Luke said laughing.

Layton was completely covered in flour, the shocked expression on his face barely showing through the white powder. He began to laugh, shaking himself out. The flour went everywhere—on Luke, on the table, the floor, the chairs, _everything_. Luke grinned, picking up a handful of flour from the now spilled bag. He chucked it at Layton, narrowly missing his face. Layton raised an eyebrow, grinning mischievously. Forming his own, er, 'flour ball', Layton threw it at Luke, hitting him squarely between the eyes. Luke fell and landed on his backside, with an audible 'oomph'.

Luke looked up at Layton, tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. Quickly, Layton stooped, and gathered the boy into his arms. He held Luke, rubbing circles into his back. Luke hiccupped, clutching at Layton's shirt whilst trying to rub the flour out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry Luke," Layton whispered, holding Luke tighter.

"It-it's okay Professah," Luke said around hiccups, "I'm the one dat started it. I'm sorry."

Luke pulled back, shyly looking down at the ground.

Layton cocked his head to the side, his face creasing. "What's the matter?" He said a little bit louder.

Luke looked up, and as quick as could be, planted a kiss on Layton's forehead. He hugged Layton, burying his face in his mentor's flour-dusted shirt.

"I love you Daddy," Luke mumbled.

Layton kissed the top of Luke's head. "Love you too, Luke," Layton whispered.

* * *

Layton rolled over in his sleep. He knew there was another person in the room; he could hear the footsteps on the wood floor. Daring to crack an eye open, he read the time on his bedside clock: 2AM.

"Luke, go back to bed," Layton said loudly.

A small squeak was heard from the end on the bed, and tiny footsteps raced away from Layton's room. Yes, it was Christmas Day, but it was just ungentlemanly to wake one up before 7AM.

Layton was sure it was still two in the morning, but a small child dressed in blue pajamas had something to say otherwise.

"ProfessaAAAAAAHHH," Luke's shrill voiced yelled from the end of the bed.

Layton jumped straight up in the air, landing on his stomach in front of Luke.

"It's time to get up," Luke half-whispered, half-giggled. He slid off the bed and skipped out of the room, probably to go downstairs.

Layton sighed, burying his face in the sheets. He knew the boy got excited on Christmas, but really—was it necessary to wake up so early? Sighing in defeat, Layton slid out of bed, not bothering to change out of his orange pajamas. He tromped downstairs, to see Luke sitting patiently in front of the tree. Layton smiled fondly at the tall fir, remembering when Luke had hand-picked the beautiful tree. Winking at Luke, he strode past the boy sitting on the floor and walked into the kitchen.

"Professah," Luke started to complain.

"I'm just getting a cup of tea," Layton called, rolling his eyes whilst his back was turned.

"Hurry _up_," Luke whined, laying face-down on the carpet.

Smiling, Layton walked back into the living room with a cup of boiling tea and a plate of cookies.

"Now Luke, it's not gentlemanly to complain, especially on Christmas," Layton reminded.

"But Professah!" Luke squirmed where he sat up.

Layton raised an eyebrow, hiding a smirk behind his tea cup.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" Layton said, smiling.

Luke squealed, diving into the abundance of presents underneath the tree. He quickly sorted the packages into two piles—one for himself, and one for the Professor. Luke was about to open his first gift, when he stopped, his hand just above the first bow. He quickly stood up, and ran into the kitchen.

"Luke?" Layton called, a bit worried.

Luke ran back into the room, a pad of paper and pencil clutched in his small hands. "It's so I don't forget who the gifts are from," Luke said, sitting back in front of the pile of gifts.

He picked up the first one, squinting at the label. "To Luke, From Miss Katia and Mr. Anton," He read aloud. Scribbling her name on the paper, Luke tore into the paper, and withdrew puzzle books. Gasping, wonder filled his little blue eyes, and he hugged the books to his chest. Luke wrote it down next to her name, and handed the gift to the Professor.

Layton took the books, and flipped through them. He solved the ones he could read in a matter of seconds, and laughed—he had to remember to not tell Luke the answers and let him solve them for himself.

"Keep going," Layton urged, excited as Luke was to see his son open the gifts from him.

Luke nodded, picking up a present wrapped in hot-pink paper with a purple bow. "To Luke, From Flora," Luke said. He wrote her name on the paper, and carefully unwrapped the gift. He pulled out a small velvet box. Confused, Luke opened the box and gasped. Layton leaned forward, curious as to what in the box. Luke pulled out a rope bracelet with a puzzle-piece charm and a piece of paper.

"Luke—thank you for being my friend. I can't wait to see you after Christmas break! Enjoy the charm bracelet. Make sure to collect charms from your adventures with the Professor! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Your Bestie, Flora," Luke read quickly, happiness spreading across his face.

"That was really sweet of her," Layton said softly. He remembered when Claire has gotten him a similar bracelet. Unfortunately, it was long gone by now.

Luke fastened the silver clasp on his wrist, holding it up in the light. He quickly scribbled the gift next to Flora's name, and examined the rest of the pile of presents.

"Are these all from you, Professah?" Luke asked.

"I believe so," Layton answered, sipping the rest of his tea.

Luke put aside the paper and pencil, and absolutely _tore_ through the rest of his gifts. Layton had gotten him a new pair of suspenders, a hat that actually fit his head, a journal, a new pack of pens, and a new flannel sheets set—puzzle patterned, of course. There was one last gift, and Layton was practically dying on the inside for Luke to open it.

Luke took the tissue paper out of the bag, and reached his hand inside. He felt something soft…fuzzy… He brought his hand out, and he squealed.

Layton laughed, seeing Luke clutching the new teddy bear to his chest. Luke's old one was torn up in the laundry. He had been so upset to see his teddy as nothing but stuffing, that Layton knew he had to get him a new one.

"Alright Professah," Luke grinned, setting the teddy bear in his lap, "it's your turn!"

Layton sighed, moving from his comfortable chair to a spot on the floor where Luke had piled the gifts addressed to him. Groaning when his knees creaked, he picked up a small present wrapped in silver paper. "To Hershel, from Katia," Layton read, whilst Luke scribbled on the pad of paper. Layton slowly unwrapped the gift, and pulled out a picture frame. It was of him and some old school friends, he hadn't seen in years. Attached to the frame was a note—_A cousin of mine-Angela-gave me this picture. I thought you might like it. –Katia_

Luke peeked at the picture, while Layton sighed gratefully, and placed the picture gingerly in his lap.

"Professah, who's Angela?" Luke asked innocently.

"I'll tell you when you're older," Layton mumbled, not going further with the subject.

Luke blinked, not used to such an answer. Shrugging it off as early morning crankiness, Luke handed Layton the next gift. "To Dad, from Luke," Layton read, smiling.

Luke bit his lip as Layton opened it. When he had been going through the bookshelf looking for cookbooks, a picture of the Professor and a young ginger girl fell out of an older book. When he saw it, and saw the happiness in the young Professor's eyes, he knew he had to frame it and give it to the Professor.

Layton opened the gift, and saw the picture was upside down, and a note was attached to this one as well. _Don't be mad, Professah, I accidentally found it. –Luke_

Blinking, he looked back up at Luke. His face was reddened and he was looking down at his teddy bear and playing with it. Sighing in what horrors Luke could have found (not that there are any…) Layton flipped the picture over and his eyes widened. There was the missing picture of him and Claire! About four days before Claire passed away in the laboratory accident, she insisted they get a picture taken together with him in his new top hat. He looked so young, his face flustered and his hat lopsided. Claire looked as beautiful as ever, her porcelain face slightly reddened with blush. It had been a beautiful day that day. The sun was shining, and Layton couldn't have been happier.

"Luke," Layton managed, memories flooding through his mind.

"I'm sorry, Professah! I really am! I didn't mean to fi-," Luke burst out before Layton interrupted.

"Thank you," Layton stammered, "Thank you so, so much. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Luke stood and stumbled over to the Professor, falling next to him and hugging him as silent tears dripped down Layton's cheeks. It seemed sad, but to Hershel, it was the best Christmas he had ever had.

* * *

**_I apologize for how late this was. I meant to post it before Christmas, but I suppose late is better than never. _**

**_These chapters are going to come slower than usual, with school and all._**

**_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: A Surprise for Luke

Luke rolled over in bed, his thumb stuck in his mouth, his right arm clutched at his teddy bear. He was seven already, but the habit had long stuck with him. It was an early July morning, when he sat up in bed, eyes wide and heart pounding. _What was that?_ He thought. He knew the only people in the house were him and the Professah, but it sounded like someone had opened the front door. Swiveling in his bed, the time on Luke's beside clock read 5AM; now he was sure it wasn't the Professah.

Creeping out of bed, Luke tiptoed out of his bedroom and down the hallway to the staircase. He could hear the footsteps downstairs. They weren't heavy, so he was guessing it was someone in the range of eleven to fifteen years of age. Gulping, Luke tiptoed down the creaky stairs, narrowly missing the loudest step. Peeking around the stairs, Luke had to cover his mouth to prevent himself from making any sounds. There was a young boy in his house, looking to be twelve. He wore a ratty blue jacket, a grey shirt, and long, torn up black pants. He was barefoot.

The boy turned around, startling Luke. He ran at Luke, his eyes lighting up with fire. Luke shrieked, jumping out of the way. The boy slammed into the wall, an audible crack coming from his face. Wiping his bloody nose, the boy turned back towards Luke.

"You're going to pay for that," the boy said, his voice raspy.

"I don't know you!" Luke yelled, throwing a potted plant at the boy. The plant crashed into the wall next to the boy.

Jumping onto the steps, the boy glared at Luke. "Is that all you g-agh!"

The boy was now picked up by Layton, and he squirmed in the Professor's arms.

"Lemme go!" He shouted, kicking and screaming.

Layton threw the boy over his shoulder, quietly and calmly walking up the stairs. Luke, bewildered by the whole situation, walked up the steps behind the Professor. They walked into Layton's room, and Layton promptly tossed the boy onto his own bed. Luke turned on the light switch, and the boy hissed under the sudden bright light. Layton stared at the boy for what seemed like forever, before he finally spoke.

"Clive."

Startled, the young boy looked up the Professor. "How do yeh know my name?" Clive asked, wary of the older gentleman.

Layton laughed, an abrupt sound in the quiet atmosphere. "I was told you would be coming," Layton explained, sitting next to Clive on the bed.

"Luke," Layton motioned for the scared babe to come closer, "Clive is a friend. In fact, he is much more than that."

Scared out of his wits, Luke steered clear of Clive, attempting to hide behind the Professor's leg. Sighing, Layton plucked Luke off of the floor and placed in him his lap.

"Luke, meet your older brother, Clive," Layton said, smiling warmly.

"WHAT," Clive and Luke yelled.

Layton laughed. "My dear children, calm down, and let me tell you how I know," Layton replied.

The children settled down, eyeing each other warily.

"Now," Layton began, "About two weeks ago, I received a letter tacked to my front door, telling me that I would be visited by a young boy named Clive tonight. I was to keep him as my own, as he is the older sibling of the baby that was dropped off at my doorstep seven years ago."

Luke looked wide eyed at the Professor. Turning to Clive, he realized that the older boy had the same face as he did; the same eyes, nose, hair color, even the same haircut. Luke smiled, and reached out to Clive with his tiny arms. Clive sneered, and turned his back to the young boy. Hurt by his brother's actions, Luke burst into tears and buried his face in the Professor's pajamas.

Layton sighed, turning to Clive. "I know this is a lot to take in," he said quietly, "But I'm assuming it is what your mother wants."

"You don't know Ma, and yeh certainly don't know me," Clive retorted, folding his arms.

"Clive, listen to me," Layton said sternly, "You are to stay here under my care. You are too young to be off on your own, anyway. I will try and be the best parental figure I can, but you have to—at least—try and make an effort to see it in a good light."

"See it in a good light?" Clive yelled, "Ma's dead, Poppa's nowhere to be found, and I'm forced to stay with _you_."

Luke turned to Clive, his pale face blotchy and his eyes red from crying. "Clive," Luke said, a wobble in his voice, "I lost 'em both too, but the Professah is the best thing I got." With that, Luke snuggled back into his father, enjoying the body heat.

Clive blinked at the younger boy's words, and sighed in defeat.

"The guest room is made up for you already, and we'll go shopping for a new wardrobe tomorrow," Layton whispered, as Luke was already fast asleep.

Layton carried Luke to his own room, tucking the young boy into bed. Then, taking Clive's hand, he led the boy to the guest room.

"The washroom is that door and there are towels and other hygiene items in that closet," Layton explained, pointing.

Nodding, Clive and Layton exchanged goodnights, and the child scrambled off to bed.

Tired out of his mind, Layton plodded back to his own room, and settled in his sheets. He wasn't exactly prepared for a new child. Luke had been easy so far, but Clive was going to be a teenager soon and the hormones were going to be a nightmare. Groaning, Layton rolled over in bed, and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Layton was awoken again by a series of pokes in his back.

"Luke," Layton groaned, rolling over to face the child. Luke looked down at the Professor, worry in his eyes.

"What is it?" Layton asked, sitting up on his elbows.

"I'm worried about Clive, Professah," Luke whispered, "We don't know nothing 'bout him. Are we gonna trust him?"

"Of course," Layton said, sitting fully upright, "Why not?"

Luke climbed into the Professor's lap, laying his head on Layton's chest. "I dunno," he whispered, sighing, "I just think we should take some time to get to know 'im first."

Layton chuckled, running a hand through Luke's hair. "Of course, my boy," Layton replied, "We will teach Clive to become a young gentleman."

Luke smiled. "I guess we have to," he said, raising his voice a tad.

"Perhaps today we'll go to the bakery after we buy Clive new clothes," Layton commented.

"Really?" Luke gasped.

Layton nodded, a smile on his face. "We can buy a loaf of homemade bread to bring home and have with dinner."

Luke laughed, hugging the Professor. "I love you guys," Luke said sleepily.

Layton kissed the top of Luke's head. "I love you guys too. But," He pulled Luke off of him, "We need to wake Clive up so we can start shopping early."

Luke leapt off the bed. "I'll get 'im," Luke shouted, running out of the room.

Luke ran into Clive's room, and saw the older boy was fast asleep. Luke tiptoed in, and stood next to Clive.

"Clive," Luke whispered, poking the boy's shoulder.

Clive's eyes popped open. He shrieked, and tried to move away from Luke. Instead, he ended up falling off the opposite side of the bed and onto the cold, hardwood floor.

"You two ok?" Layton called from his room.

"We're good!" The boys yelled simultaneously.

Grunting, Clive stood up from the floor and brushed the dust off of his shoulder.

"I suppose its shopping day?" Clive said, still raspy.

"Yep," Luke replied, "So go clean up nice, and I'll bring you breakfast."

Clive smiled appreciatively, and walked in the direction of the bathroom. Luke scuttled out and down the stairs to the kitchen to heat up leftover pancakes for the—most likely—starving brother of his. Luke shook his head, still bewildered. He couldn't believe he had a brother. It was all so exciting! Luke's grin on his face grew, and he decided that Clive was the best big brother in the entire world.

* * *

"I think it looks good," Luke said, swinging his legs back and forth. They were at the mall, and Clive was currently trying on shirts. He has picked a plain white collared shirt with a black vest.

"I think you look very grown up," Layton commented, a smile on his lips.

"Thanks," Clive said, stretching out the word. Turning his back, Clive slid back into the dressing room to put on _another_ set of clothes. They had about eight outfits already, but Layton had insisted they get him a suit as well.

This time when Clive came out, Luke's jaw dropped. Clive's thin form was accented greatly by the jacket, as it was tailored to his form. It was a sheer black, and a thin blue tie rested on his chest. Clive stuck his hands in the jacket pockets.

"Well?" He said, flicking his eyes back and forth from Layton to Luke.

"Yes," Luke said, not taking his eyes off his brother.

Clive glanced at Luke, a smile quirking on his lips.

Layton nodded. "Yes," he said, for lack of better words.

Laughing, Clive disappeared into the dressing room once more. Luke and Layton looked at each other, wide smiled on their faces. Clive was in a good mood.

"That one," Clive and Luke said in unison.

They were at the bakery, and Layton had told them they could pick out _one _baked good. Thankfully, they both picked the same thing: a chocolate chip cookie with dark chocolate chips. The employee behind the counter bagged the slightly oversized cookie, and Luke handed the cashier the money for it. The boys walked out of the bakery together, to see Layton enjoying a cup of tea whilst chatting to a familiar woman with purple hair.

"Hi Miss Katia!" Luke called, waving.

Katia waved to Luke, smiling brightly. Her eyes glanced to Clive for a brief second, before she turned to Layton. The boys walked into the conversation just as Layton was finishing explaining to Katia who Clive was.

"You must be Clive," Katia said sweetly, looking down at the obviously flustered boy.

"I-indeed I am," He stammered, looking up at Katia.

She laughed. "What's the matter? Haven't you ever seen a woman before?" Katia joked.

"Not one as beautiful as you, Ma'm," Clive said, taking his hat off of his head and holding it to his chest.

Katia laughed again, pulling the boy into a hug. She pulled back, and from Luke's point of view, he could have sworn Clive's face was dark red.

Layton tipped his hat to Katia as she waved and walked away. Turning back to his children, he looked at Clive, whose eyes were still following her as she walked away. Shaking his head, Layton steered the boy the opposite direction. Sighing, Layton dreaded when Clive was going to be full-on hormonal. He thanked the heavens that Luke was still seven; he had a few good years before he had two hormonal teenagers in the house.

* * *

**_I apologize, as it is very short._**

**_Reviews are welcome!_**


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